


A New Beginning

by rogue5_echo3



Series: Luke's Best Friend [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Battle of Yavin (Star Wars), Fluff, Force-Sensitive Reader, Gen, Jedi Reader (Star Wars), Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Yoda (Star Wars), Movie: Star Wars: A New Hope, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Battle of Yavin (Star Wars), Reader-Insert, fem!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue5_echo3/pseuds/rogue5_echo3
Summary: While working on her X-wing, (Y/N) daydreams about one of the best—and worst—days of her and Luke’s lives, when their losses were the catalyst for the beginning of an amazing journey they never dared to imagined.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Reader, Luke Skywalker/You
Series: Luke's Best Friend [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072259
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Forgot to add this to my Luke's Best Friend series when I initially posted. It's now fixed!!

Your hand moves in slow circles along the surface of your X-wing, soapy water dripping onto the floor of the hangar and down the drain. Time all but disappears when you work on your spacecraft, your mind capricious, wandering through a myriad of memories, facts, and even fantasies. Yoda certainly would not approve— _does_ not approve, for you know that he keeps a close eye on you—but you never indulge in these wild speculations, letting them go as easily as they first enter your consciousness. Your daydreams encompass both the past and the future, and most of them surround Luke—your constant companion, your favorite person.

Right now, your mind is full of questions. What would your life be like if you had never met Luke? Would you know of your Force sensitivity? Would you dare to dream of a life off Tatooine? Would you guess that in another life you’re a Jedi Master, an integral part of the former Rebel Alliance, of something much larger than yourself?

That first victory at the Battle of Yavin…how sweet it had felt, and what a relief it had been. Your flight back to Yavin 4 after the explosion of the first Death Star had been a blur of celebratory shouts. Touching down in the hangar was no different; an applauding crowd had already gathered around Luke’s X-wing. He was the undoubtable hero of the moment, of the entire resistance. You opened the hatch and stood, looking over the heads of the crowd for blonde hair in an orange jumpsuit—Luke.

There he was, like you, standing in his own X-wing and searching for you—(Y/H/C) hair in an orange jumpsuit. You locked eyes, and a relieved laugh left your mouth at seeing his smiling face. You removed your helmet, flinging it inside the cockpit, and brushed the hair out of your face before ignoring the ladder and jumping down. At that point, the crowd had grown so that you couldn’t see him anymore. Without any of your usual regard for propriety, you yelled, “Luke!”

Upon your exclamation, those who had joined the celebration parted to reveal your best friend, who was turning to face you as he called, “(Y/N)!” You ran toward him, lifting your hands up in the air. His arms were outstretched and ready to embrace you, but neither of you were prepared for your leap into his arms (further evidence of your abandonment of decorum). Luke was sturdy, though, and, despite a slight stumble backward, he remained upright, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours curled around his neck. You held on tightly as your feet left the ground, the sensation causing you to gasp and subsequently burst into hysterical, delighted laughter. You couldn’t breathe, with the combination of laughter and the vice-like grip on each other the two of you were maintaining. Time slowed in that moment as you relished the absolute delight sent through you via his barking, carefree laughter.

Time regained its pace once more, and the celebration was made more perfect, as Leia, bounding through the excited crowd, screamed, “Luke! (Y/N)!” just before crashing into you. In an unceremonious manner, your feet hit the floor as Luke removed one arm from you to wrap it around Leia. There was no time to process the jolt, for you echoed Luke and wrapped an arm around her as well.

As you squeezed each other tight, you and Luke yelled, “Leia!”

No sooner had you done so than the deep bellows of Han (“Hey!”) reached your ears as he ripped through the crowd.

More excited giggles left your mouth, and you and Luke replied, “Hey!” nearly falling over from the force of his hug.

Luke sounded in absolute _glee_ as he said to Han, “I knew you’d come back! I just knew it!”

You added, “We knew you couldn’t stay away!”

Keeping with his character, Han replied, “I wasn’t gonna let you get all the credit and take all the reward.”

Then, in an endearing, boyish way, Han pushed Luke’s face away, and Luke swung around to avoid it, grinning the whole time. You had never seen Luke so excited and happy before. His eyes were open wide, and so was his whole countenance; he was taking it all in. And his eyes—they were bluer than you had ever seen them. It left you speechless, unable to do anything but smile and laugh.

Leia smushed herself between you and Han, saying to the latter, “I knew there was more to you than money.”

You snorted, but your attention was soon wrenched away from your new friends and toward R2, whose scorched body the crew was lowering from the spacecraft.

“Oh, no” whispered Luke, as he stepped forward toward the droid, not releasing his grip on your side and, therefore, moving you with him. You were happy—perfectly content, really—to stay near him, although you had never felt more like a rag doll in your life.

3PO—ever the anxious droid—said, “Oh, my. R2, can you hear me? Say something. You can repair him, can’t you?”

The technician assured him. “We’ll get to work on him right away.”

“You _must_ repair him,” 3PO continued, turning to Luke. “Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them.”

Touched by his concern—even more so, considering his constant scolding of R2—you were finally able to speak. “He’ll be alright.”

In the next moment, you were whisked away, managing to duck at the last moment as you walked underneath Luke’s X-wing toward the hangar’s exit, holding on tightly to Luke on your left and Leia on your right, while Han was on Leia’s other side. Chewie followed the four of you, and you turned to give him a bright smile, which he responded to with a roar and a pat on the head.

That day, your whole world had been flipped upside down twice over. You and Luke had gone from nobodies on Tatooine, to nobodies on a rescue mission, to heroes of the resistance. As you walked, you let a few tears escape your eyes. You looked at Leia and Han. Then, you looked at Luke and found that he was looking back at you, both of you grinning like idiots. You nodded at him and reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, which he reciprocated, nodding back at you.

The two of you had finally found where you belonged; you finally had a place in a larger story. Your efforts—they finally _meant_ something, and to the whole galaxy, no less. While you knew that you could never, _ever_ feel alone with Luke by your side—he’d shown you earlier that day in the cantina—you had never expected to feel so…surrounded, to feel such _togetherness_ , such _purpose_ so soon after your recent tragedy. You would never forget your parents, or your aunt and uncle, but you knew that you were where you were meant to be—that this new path was yours for the taking; you fit.

“What’s wrong?”

Luke’s voice, coming from the entrance to the Academy’s hangar, knocks you clear out of your reverie, and you jump, giving him a sheepish look at your inability to notice his arrival. There is something else that has escaped your notice until now: your cheeks are wet. Your grease-covered hands, however, preclude you from drying them. You have no idea when you switched from washing your X-wing to degreasing it.

With a small, curious smile, Luke moves to stand in front of you. He covers his hand with the sleeve of his robe and gently wipes your cheeks. He smirks. “I would’ve given you my handkerchief, but I didn’t want it to get greasy. Who knows? I might cry later, too.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but you smile at him all the same. “You don’t even carry a handkerchief, Luke.”

“Just let me make my jokes,” he jests before his eyebrows pinch together in concern. “What’s up, (Y/N)?”

You decide to give him a taste of his own mysterious medicine; he is not the only one who can make jokes. “Victory,” you say, immediately turning around to place your tools back in their box.

When you finish, you turn back toward him with a bright—albeit mischievous—smile. It’s his turn to shake his head. “Ha-ha,” he sarcastically remarks before his expression shows that he expects you to explain what caused your tears.

Still smiling, you sit down on a nearby bench. He joins you.

“I was thinking about the Battle of Yavin—specifically what happened after we landed,” you reveal.

A light glows in Luke’s eye, and his smile widens as he lets out a breathy chuckle. “That was a good day.”

“Yes,” you admit, nodding your head, “but, it started out as the very worst day. I can’t think of it without thinking of all that we lost, to finally find where we belong. Even though I _love_ our life now, our losses brought us here just as much as our victories.”

His eyes are serious, but his smile remains as he takes your hand, enveloping it between his own. The durasteel flashes in the last rays of the sun. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. In the small space between you, your sadness, and love, and joy, and thankfulness, and hope, and wonder, intermingle in a silent reverberation of a single word: _yes_.

You let out a light chuckle at your friend’s agreeing with you, at his sharing in all that brings you sorrow and in all that fills you with joy, and he does the same, until the two of you are giggling—actually _giggling_ —like you did all those years ago, like you’re ten years old, instead of twenty-eight.

As you begin to calm down, he says, “I don’t remember when you started to get so philosophical.”

You shrug and bump his shoulder with yours. “Probably about the same time you started to get so mysterious.”

The two of you look at each other with narrowed eyes, trying to determine when you stopped being goofy kids and started being wise Jedi. Then, simultaneously, you say, “Dagobah,” and begin to laugh again.

This man. Your best friend. Your closest confidant. The other half of you. There is no other way to say it, even if the description of being made whole by another person is typical of a romantic relationship. You and Luke know who you are.

“I’m so, so thankful for you,” you tell him, even though he already knows.

He squeezes your hand. “And I, you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, watching the brilliant sky and noting every movement of the sun’s descension and the moons’ succession. Your losses have made you who you are, and you can’t imagine ever wanting any other life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99% of the dialogue in this chapter is from Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. I don't own Star Wars or its characters, nor am I receiving financial compensation for this story. It's purely for fun. :)
> 
> This was fun to write, and there'll be a second part! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ ~ ~ marks a larger change in place/time.  
> ... marks a smaller change in place/time.  
> It'll make sense while reading. Thanks!

The sun disappears not long after you and Luke sit down, but the bright light of the moons guides your path back to the temple, eradicating the need to ignite your lightsabers. You savor the moment: the slight chill of the breeze (characteristic of this planet and a major bonus for two individuals from a desert planet), the rustle of the grass, the almost-inaudible squeak of the grassland creatures. This is home.

In the entrance to the temple, the Mandalorian sits in an armchair, with Grogu asleep on his shoulder. He arrived earlier for his first visit since he parted ways with the child a couple months ago. He nods at you, and you return the gesture with a sweet, genuine smile, avoiding making eye contact with Luke, whose aura can only be described as a full-body smirk. How he accomplishes this, you don’t know; Han is the only other person you have ever witnessed pulling this off. 

As you turn the corner, you give Luke a characteristic roll of your eyes—your response of choice when it comes to teasing. “You just wait,” you threaten, “You’re going to regret teasing me if we ever meet that friend of his again. There will be no mercy…I hope she doesn’t shoot you with that huge blaster.”

“Pfft,” he replied— _his_ response of choice.

At the end of the hall, you step through the doorway and enter the courtyard that lies on the east side of the temple. The pebbles crunch under your feet as you move along the path, listening to the sounds of the younglings preparing for sleep in their huts. Every night was the same but different, in its own magnificent way: the children poking their heads out of their huts to whisper, “Good night, Masters Skywalker and (Y/L/N),” as you make your rounds; the sleepiness in their voice and in their eyes; and the hushed whispers of friends conversing until they fall asleep. It’s the most precious and peaceful time of your day.

Halfway through your walk, Luke grabs your hand and squeezes. You return it, previous teasing forgotten, and neither of you let go until you enter your quarters a few minutes later.

You sigh in contentment as you kick your boots off at the front door and pour yourself a glass of water. Before retreating with it into your room, you smile at your best friend. “Good night, Luke.”

“Good night, (Y/N),” he returns.

You’re ready for bed soon after, the warm water from your shower having completed your day in the best way. You settle into your cot and pull the blankets around you, giving in to sleep.

~ ~ ~

“You look fine!” you exclaim, swatting Luke’s hands away from where they fuss at the collar of his new, yellow jacket.

“I’ve never worn clothes as nice as these before,” he explains, rolling his shoulders as he tries to get comfortable.

“And _I_ can’t remember ever wearing a dress in my life.”

You extend your arms to the side as if to say, “Look at this.” The light blue dress lightly hugs your torso and flows down at your hips to allow your legs freedom of movement. Wearing it was Leia’s idea. You’ve only known her for a few days, but you already know that you’ll do anything for her, and it’s obvious that she’ll do anything for you; that’s the kind of person she is. In that way, she reminds you of Luke.

“At least it’s flowy,” Luke says, looking at your outfit and then extending his arms to mirror you, the leather squeaking as he does so. You giggle.

A voice from behind you muses, “Is that some kind of new dance move?”

Han imitates your stance, which causes Chewie to laugh.

“Ha-ha,” Luke deadpans, while you narrow your eyes at Han.

Han looks down at your dress for a moment. “Well, well, well. Look at you all dolled up for the ceremony.”

You shake your head at him and turn away. “I’m not a doll,” you reply, only half serious in your show of anger. Not even Han can dampen your mood on this day of celebration.

Han chuckles at your icy demeanor and retorts, “Whatever you say, _doll_.”

You ignore him, and he moves to stand on Luke’s right side. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him whisper something to Luke and then look pointedly at you. Chewie chuckles again as you barely catch Luke’s words.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Han.”

Luke then turns to you, and you look up at him with a questioning expression. He replies with a look that says, “Don’t worry about it.”

As he speaks, the sound of trumpets breaches the thick metal doors, and the four of you turn toward them and stand at attention. Luke smiles at you, and you take a deep breath as he reaches for your hand and squeezes. You return the gesture, grateful for this new show of affection. As he lets go, he smiles at Han, who tries to appear nonchalant and not at all like he’s honored to be recognized in this way. Anyone who is looking can see straight through him, though. Han covers himself with layers of sarcasm and charisma, but after only four days you have seen how much he cares.

The blast doors open, and the trumpets’ volume increases tenfold. Crew members, pilots, and officers alike stand on either side of the walkway, and at the end stands Princess Leia, in a white gown similar to yours. You focus on her smiling face and on your feet, less terrified that you’ll fall compared to your fear of never living it down. Luke would surely leave it alone after a day or two, but Han would not.

The four of you stop as you stand in front of Leia, who surveys you, her eyes full of dignity and pride. As her eyes rest on you and Luke, however, you break out into a grin, which she mirrors. Luke’s giddy grin reminds you how he called Leia beautiful after seeing her hologram. His face had been full of wonder and his voice full of awe, but familiarity and friendship have taken their place, and Luke appears to glow from the attention. He deserves it.

Despite your many thoughts, it does not escape your notice when Han winks at Leia after receiving his medal. _Huh_ , you think, _there’s something I can tease Han about._

Luke is next in line. He dips his head, and Leia slides the medal around his neck. When he is upright again, you detect a blush on his cheeks—so faint that someone who does not know him as well could not discern it. Her beauty may no longer elicit wonder, but it is beauty all the same.

There is no hiding the grin that adorns your face and that causes Luke to look over at you. Your eyes are wide, and your eyebrows are raised, in a way that obviates any spoken teasing. He says nothing, but his darkened blush tells you that you’re embarrassing him.

Leia then stands in front of you with your medal. As you bow your head, you do your best to clamp your lips shut and tame your runaway brows. You lift your head back up to smile at Leia, who nods at your dress with a sweet smile.

After Chewie receives his medal, commotion from behind the princess catches your eye. Little R2 is dancing and beeping for joy, and all of you share a wonderful moment of laughter that feels unreal in its perfection.

The next moment feels just as fantastical as the last. You face the crowd filled with members of the Rebel Alliance—of your new family, people you can count on—who applaud you. The strong rush of emotions threatens to knock you off your feet. A few days ago, you were just the daughter of moisture farmers on a backwater planet, and it had seemed your fate to follow in their footsteps. You were no one, and no one was ever going to clap for you, even if you and Luke had eventually made it to the Imperial Academy.

This moment isn’t just unexpected; it’s a dream, but you did it. You and Luke had played an integral role in destroying the Death Star, in making the galaxy a safer place to live.

It’s all too much, and you almost miss your cue to walk back down the aisle. With a few quick steps, you make up for the ones that your friends have taken without you. Your smile is sheepish as you gaze up at Luke, but the joy and pride on his face removes any trace of embarrassment from yours.

Leia and all those at the front of the room follow behind you as you exit and turn left toward the ballroom, where the Rebel Alliance will convene for the official victory party—the impromptu, rowdy celebration of a few nights ago having been deemed both not enough, and too much, celebration. This is fine with you, for you’re looking forward to meeting more of your new comrades.

…

“I need a refill. I’ll be right back,” you tell Luke as you leave the small group for the refreshments’ table.

“Yeah, I could use one too. Excuse me.”

You turn around to see Han walking up to you with a mischievous smile. _Oh, brother_ , you think.

His next words make you wonder if you spoke aloud. “No need to look like that, sister. It’s just a walk to the drinks. Am I that bad?”

Walking next to him, you reply, “I’m simply wondering what you have to say. You have a mischievous look in your eye, Han.”

“Well, I’ll get right to the point, then, doll.”

You glare at him, and he raises his hands in mock surrender as the two of you reach the table. You fill your glass with a delicious, orange fruit drink that Leia recommended and motion for him to continue.

“ _So_ ,” he says with exaggeration, puffing out his chest and giving you a discerning look, “I saw how you looked at Luke during the ceremony. You know, while Leia was giving him his medal.”

You fight hard against the urge to roll your eyes. It’s obvious where he’s headed.

He continues when you refuse to react. “Why you looked absolutely delighted to see your boyfriend obviously flustered about another woman—especially a princess—is beyond me.”

 _Now_ you roll your eyes and meet his gaze once more, your expression one of correcting a child. “Luke is not my boyfriend. He’s not my ‘so-called friend,’ either. He’s my best friend.”

Your eyes leave Han’s disbelieving features and travel across the room to Luke, whom you watch with a fond smile. As if he could feel your gaze, he gazes back at you, matching your smile. Then, he notices Han’s expression. One question (Is he being annoying?) dances in his eyes as he looks back and forth between you two. You smile and roll your eyes as if to say, “What do you think?"

Han interrupts your across-the-room conversation by waving his hand in front of your face and saying, “Are you there?”

You swat it away and glare at him before looking at Luke to confirm that now Han is _really_ annoying you.

“You can’t tell me now that you don’t harbor feelings for your ‘friend’ over there.”

He’s smug, and you know how to remedy it. With a sweet smile (and an even sweeter voice) you say, “Han, this is the only way I know how to get through to you: Luke and I are basically like you and your ‘friend’ Chewbacca over there.”

You nod your head in Chewie’s direction, where he laughs with Leia. Han follows your gaze, his eyes full of uncertainty.

“All the teasing and looks across rooms, except Luke and I are the same species and the opposite sex. Plus,” you continue, with a mischievous smile to match his previous one, “I don’t see Chewie getting jealous over _your_ flirting with Leia, like you expect me to about Luke.”

He looks at you, and for once, he’s speechless. He walks away, but not before muttering, “You went too far, sister.”

You can’t help the giggle that leaves you when you see him pass Leia, who is walking your way, and avoid her eye. When she reaches you, she asks, “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing he didn’t say to me. He’ll be okay,” you say, glancing to where Han is now talking with Luke. The former is serious, but the latter is laughing and shaking his head. You can imagine the words they’re exchanging, and it brings a grin to your face.

“You’ve been smiling a lot today,” Leia remarks, and you shrug.

“It’s a big day for us…Luke and me, I mean. Our lives will never be the same—both in ways that are amazing and in ways that hurt. I’m excited for the future, though.”

Leia gives you a sad smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Of course. Alderaan. All three of you lost your families on the same day, at the same hand—the hand of the Empire. How you wish that the destruction of the Death Star will be the end of it, but you’re not naïve. The Emperor has not lost his apprentice, and his hold over the galaxy has not weakened. Still, without their planet killer, their power has faltered.

“I’m so glad that damned thing is destroyed,” you tell her, a fierce loyalty adorning every word.

Her smile grows. “Me, too. With it gone, there’s hope for the future.”

You nod and look at Luke again. When you look back at Leia, her face is full of curiosity.

“I saw you grinning at Luke during the ceremony, and I saw you try to hide it soon after…What was that about?”

“Oh.” After a pause, you say, “I was just really excited about Luke getting his medal.” It’s not a lie.

Leia peers at you with narrowed eyes. _Here it comes again_ , you think. Hopefully, her and Han—along with everyone else you meet from here on out—will let it go after you refute it.

“Are you two…involved?” she asks.

You grin at her and shake your head. “No.”

The question itself isn’t annoying when it comes from those with genuine curiosity—unlike Han, whose ridicule of you was evident. You have never had feelings for anyone, anyway. You can’t imagine kissing Luke, not to mention anyone else you know.

She nods, stealing a glance at Luke. “I couldn’t quite tell.”

“Well, you’re not alone. Thank you for not pestering me, like Han just did.”

Leia shakes her head, and you laugh.

“That man is a scoundrel, (Y/N).”

“Ha!” you laugh. “A scoundrel. I like it.”

The two of you laugh and Leia pulls you in for a hug before you make your way back to your friends.

~ ~ ~

You open your eyes to the sound of R2’s beeping.

Rolling over, you adjust the curtain to peer outside. The window is fogged, so you take a moment to clear away the condensation. Rain drips down the pane, and the sound is mesmerizing, calming—another attraction this planet offers to two Jedi Masters from a desert planet. You’ve traded binary suns for binary moons.

You watch the water for a few moments as the contents of your dream return to you, falling into your consciousness as if they were rain themselves. Far from unpleasant, you revel in the memories that your unconscious mind dwelled in last night. It has been so long, but Luke is still here, and Leia, Han, Chewie, R2, and 3PO are still here too, alive and well and part of your family.

And new members have been added: Lando, your good friend who is charismatic like Han, with flattery to spare; Pooja Naberrie, Luke’s first cousin, whom you met on Naboo after the war and whom you keep regular correspondence with; sweet Ben, who has been a bright spot in your lives since his birth; and, of course, your padawans, whose curiosity and penchant for learning spark fires in your soul. Contentment fills you, and you sigh.

The sound of a door opening tells you that Luke is up, as he always is before you. He’s not one to lay in his bed when he can start his day.

R2 beeps a question, and you smile and shake your head.

Luke’s voice is muffled through the door. “No, R2. You don’t have to sound the alarm again. She’ll get up in a few minutes. Be patient.”

“I’m awake, R2!” you call, which elicits a chuckle from Luke and a symphony of happy beeps from the droid.

With a long sigh, you heave your legs over the side of your cot and begin your day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Chewie gets a medal in this one!! He deserves it, and I don’t understand why he doesn’t get one in the movie. This was my chance to right a wrong.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, especially being able to delve deeper into (Y/N)’s relationships outside of her friendship with Luke. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
